Lilly was sat in the waiting area, blood clung to her from her last bloody fight where she missed her opponent and beat him to death with the butt of the gun. She wiped a hand across her forehead, smearing the blood around. Her blonde locks twisted around beads of blood, knotting it. Her green eyes shimmered with the ghostly events that had just passed.
She wore a tight, leather body-suit that enabled her to glide around the Bloodbox. The box was the only thing in her life now, but even that haunted her. She walked over to the desk, taking another bullet. In her hand she held her father's gun, now inscribed with her own name; the same gun she had pried from his cold, dead hands as a trophy.
Some called her heartless, she called herself a survivor. There was no room for love, only heart-ache if she died. She had no siblings and her parents... she would rather not talk about them. She loaded the gun and placed it back into its home by her side. She had faced many opponents in that box; the blood probably still stained the walls and her memory. She smiled, her glistening white teeth showed slightly as the corners of her mouth pulled upwards. She saw Nero walk from the box; the kid had done it again. “Hey kid!” She called. “Congratulations.” Her voice was cold as she acknowledged what had just transpired.